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Twerk Blanket

Tomorrow I head back to University. From the age of around 5, I have been notorious for 2 things: wearing odd socks, and leaving everything to last minute.

When I say notorious, I don’t mean there’s a file in MI5 ‘HANNAH BIRT NOTORIOUS SOCK MIXER UPPER’ what I mean is parents, family members, friend’s parent’s, old lady bystanders are like ‘are you wearing odd socks?’ and I say something like ‘yeah, what of it? Do we live in a society which is so rigid that we can only wear matching socks? My right sock is so sick of my left sock’s constant shit, right sock hates wearing black, and left sock only wears black, the left is mourning the right.’ I never say that, because it does not make sense, but I wish I did. It would annoy people. I usually do an awkward chuckle, smile and say ‘whaaaaatammmmiiiiiiLiiiikkeeeee??’ as if I’m stuck in a 90’s sitcom about a girl who only wears odd socks, fighting the fashion oppression pressed upon her by her straight talking same sock wearing parents.

Yeah so anyway, I was trying to pack. I got to my final drawer. You’ll never bloody guess what was in the drawer? It was only a Hannah Montana Fleecy blanket! (I’m still doing sit-com voice, I’ll stop now)

Around 2006, my youngest sister had a crazy Hannah Montana phase. We had a hair brush that sang ‘nobody’s perfect’               (– catchy as fuck – you can listen to it here.) We had a dance mat as well. My friend Ryan fed the dance mat bread-sticks and vodka on my 17th Birthday (here)

Last year if I’d brought my sister’s Hannah Montana fleecy blanket to uni everyone would have said ‘is that Hannah Montana? That is so 2006. What were you thinking?’ and then they would have pulled a bitchy face, and probably laughed behind my back.

However, this year, the blanket has a whole new meaning.

This blanket represents the sexualisation of the early noughtie’s Disney star, the nadir of innocence, the microcosm of a generation which is lost to sex, drugs and skeletons made out of chips. But worst of all, this blanket represents twerking.

I don’t want to talk about twerking. Because I’m not at a strip club, and I do not wish to admit that I have a ‘big butt’.

What I’m trying to get across is; a lot can change in 12 months. Embrace it. Or Become Miley Cyrus. Either way, your life will drastically change.

 *********************************************************************************************************

I never explained the second thing I’m notorious for: leaving things to last minute. Well basically, I’ve written a 500 word blog entry about a blanket instead of packing. *WHAAAATTTAMMMMIIIIIIILLLLLIIIKKKKEEEEEE*

 

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